Its been a bad day
by Natushka-86
Summary: [Horatio-Calleigh] God it had been a bad day, actually scratch that, a bad week.


Title: It's been a bad day

Author: Nat

Summary: God it had been a bad day, actually scratch that, a bad week.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but a room full of potatoes!

Rating: Soft R for da language

A/N: This is for the Muse bait 2 fic challenge. Using these two lines:

First line: Calleigh balanced herself on the chair,   
trying to reach the top shelf.

Last line: "Don't say a word, just hand me the   
aspirin."

It hasn't been beta-ed so all mistakes are mine,

Dedication: Taya, always for Taya.

--

Calleigh balanced herself on the chair, trying to reach the top shelf.

"Fuck" she swore, her finger tips brushing lightly against the aspirin bottle, but she couldn't quite reach it.

God it had been a bad day, actually scratch that, a bad week. Horatio was in New York on a case, leaving her in charge of the department. Christ she'd never seen so much political horse shit in all her life, she had no clue how Horatio dealt with all of it (_But really she did know, because he was like the knight in shining armor in all the fairy tales you had read as a little girl, and he would always slay dragon Because he was just that brave_).

But today had taken the cake. Shit today had taken that damn cake and planted explosive devices in it so it would especially explode right in her face. Why was god punishing her, what did he have against her? Oh she had a pretty god idea why. It was because finally everything was how it was suppose to be (_and what you really mean by that is that you and a certain 6ft red haired lieutenant were finally sleeping in the same bed, and finally you were able to sleep through the night without waking up in a cold sweat screaming his name_.)

Today started last night.

He had called, to tuck you in, when he was really suppose to be by your side.

One more day, Cal

He had whispered in that whisky tone voice of his that never fails to arouse you to no end. Then he proceeded to get you off over the phone, his voice tracing over your curves the way you wish his fingers would. Finally when your head stopped spinning, and your heart returned to normal, you noticed you were alone and it wasn't supposed to be like this.

One more day, Cal

That one line repeats over and over in your mind all night, and you don't get any sleep. So when you wake up your cranky and crabby and all you want is coffee... with sugar. But then you remember that your coffee machine is dead, because you killed it yesterday morning when it refused to cooperate and Horatio wasn't there to calm you down. Because he was in stupid New York.

One more day, Cal

Blinking once, twice, three times, she finally realizes she's going to be late if she doesn't get a move on. Skipping her coffee, she had a cold shower hoping it would wake her up (_because you had never really been a morning person without your coffee. Stupid bloody machine_.)

Jumping out of the shower you dress quickly, pulling your wet hair into a ponytail, knowing Horatio would be cringing at the treatment against your hair this morning, but it doesn't matter. He is not here.

Grabbing your gun, phone and keys, you make a run for your car. Only to get down to it and realize some punk ass kids let down one of your tires. But then you realize as well that your spare tire is the one that's now currently flat because you changed it last week after you ran over a large nail that had been left in the middle of the road.

For fucks sake, you almost yell at the heavens above. But you decide against it as the old lady from across the hall, choose that exact moment to walk down to her car.

Flipping open you trusty cell, you ring for a cab, only to have your cell cut out after 4 rings, because you forgot to put it on charge last night. You almost laugh at you predicament... almost.

Finally an hour later you make it into CSI, just in time too, as the whole department has seemingly fallen apart in your tardiness. Somehow you manage to organize everyone, but at this point you feel like someone had taken a sledge hammer to your head and it hurts like hell. But then it hits you.

COFFEE!

You turn and haul ass to the break room.

After pouring your coffee you sneak up into Horatio's office, closing the door behind you. Securing you in this secret haven. You raid his top draw for the undisclosed stash of sugar you know he has hidden in there just for you. One packet left. You clench you fist in triumph and thank the gods for this small victory.

Eventually you have to leave your sanctuary because you know you have to close up the Williams road shooting. Gang Vs Gang. You had found at least 10 different guns at the scene, which meant maybe at least 10 different types of ammo. You had collected more shell casings then a piñata had candy and the amount of bullets lodged into the buildings around the scene of the shooting would put a rifle range to shame.

Almost ten hours later, when everyone had gone home, you now stand on a lone chair, in the empty break room, raiding the cupboards for aspirin. Because you know you don't have any at home. You ran out two days ago, and you haven't been able to make a trip to the store yet, because you have been running a department (_yes that almost makes it sound one ounce less pathetic... Almost_)

Suddenly you hear that whisky toned voice asking you what you're still doing here. Ha! Now you're hallucinating, god you are sleep deprived. But then you hear it again, and it's closer, so you spin sharply on the chair, losing your balance at the same time and you fall. But you don't go far, because a pair of strong arms engulf you and you almost cry because Horatio is the one that caught you (_There he is your knight in shinning armor and he had saved you again, right at the moment you needed him the most. After slaying the dragon he returned home to you, just like in the fairy tales_)

You kiss him hard, molding your body against his, feeling his hard lean muscle pressed tightly against your soft curves, and god it feels good.

You tear your lips from his when oxygen becomes an issue, and you almost laugh when both of you are gasping for air. He presses his forehead against yours and you savor the closeness of this unguarded moment.

Finally he tries to speak, but you stop him, pressing your finger to his lips.

"Don't say a word, just hand me the aspirin."

_fin_


End file.
